


our hearts first meet

by heartsfilthylesson



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:43:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsfilthylesson/pseuds/heartsfilthylesson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When help is needed, help is given.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal needs more femslash so....yeah.  
> Written as fills for two separate tumblr prompts but they work as a whole. Sort of.

She glances at her gold watch and invites Alana Bloom into her study.One hour and a half, two at most, is all the time Bedelia’s willing to offer her. Of course Hannibal Lecter, well aware of her vague dislike for the eager young doctor, would ask she assist her with a particularly difficult case and call it a personal favour. She purses her lips and offers her a drink.

“Thank you, Dr. Du Maurier,” she says with a bright smile when Bedelia returns, a decanter of white wine and two glasses in hand. “I must have read your paper on comorbid somatisation ten times by now. It’s been great help with this patient.”

Alana accepts a glass of riesling immediately begins to explain the case in detail. She speaks with enthusiasm Bedelia hasn’t felt in years and rarely encounters in their field. It’s almost refreshing.

They read over transcript files and annotations, search online databases and discuss ideas until a proposed course of action forms in Bedelia’s mind. She gives her an overview while she types and Alana  looks on with admiration. “I just emailed you a copy.”

For the first time since Dr. Bloom’s arrival she checks the clock: nearly three hours have passed. It’s been so long since she allowed herself to have company —company other than Dr. Lecter— that she almost doesn’t want her to leave yet so she suggests another bottle.

They sit next to each other in the drawing room to drink. The conversation is pleasant but never drifts away from the safety of work. Then, as they finish their third glass of the night, Alana kisses her. A quick peck on the lips that makes her flinch.

“I’m so sorry.” Alana pinches her eyes shut and covers her mouth with a hand. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

It’s the first time since the incident that drew her to early retirement anyone’s been this close. Bedelia takes a deep breath and a long sip of wine.

“I will go now,” she say, flustered, and stands. “Thank you for your help, Dr. Du Maurier.”

The touch was brief but Alana’s lips were soft and warm and inviting. She realises she wants this, wants her, so she wraps her slim fingers around Alana’s wrist to stop her. “You don’t have to go.”

Alana’s frown turns into a shy smile and she sits again. When she kisses her next, it’s nothing like that first brush of lips. It’s hard and hot, tongue sliding in and sweeping across teeth, pressing against the roof of her mouth.

Bedelia guides her to lie back on the sofa. She breaks the kiss and moves her lips across Alana’s jawline and neck, she bites her earlobe and traces the shell of her ear with her tongue, hands slipping beneath fabric in search of skin.

“Bedroom?” Alana asks as she struggles with the buttons of Bedelia’s shirt.

She stands and offers Alana her hand. “Follow me.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

The first thing Alana notices when she fully wakes is that she’s alone. The second is how beautifully impersonal Bedelia du Maurier’s bedroom is.

Soft, early morning light percolates through tall windows and thin curtains, bathes the flaxen walls and ecru fabrics and gives the space a near-ethereal glow. It could be both a lavish hotel and a page off an interior design magazine, but certainly not a home, not a place that one lives in. It fits the image she had of the doctor before last night —before she felt the weight of her body and the heat of her skin,— all elegance and cold, distant beauty.

The eiderdown still smells like her, like jasmine and vanilla and sex; Alana buries her nose in the soft thread and inhales. She lingers on the bed, suddenly overcome with uncertainty, before she notices a note on the bedside table.  _Downstairs_  is written in neat, looping hand and below the thick paper is an eggshell silk robe. As she slips into the garment, she notices the clothes she hastily discarded neatly folded above a settee. Vaguely embarrassed, Alana tightens the sash about her waist and straightens her back.

There are no slippers or house shoes so she pads downstairs barefoot, the floor cold beneath her soles. The scent of fresh coffee and the soft sound of classical piece she doesn’t recognise leads her to Bedelia.

She stands by the kitchen island, a strangely shaped mug in hand. The robe leaves little skin uncovered but Alana feels naked when Bedelia’s eyes lock on hers. _Underdressed_ , she corrects herself, as Bedelia looks polished in black slim-fit trousers and a cerise blouse, blonde hair in soft but neat waves.

“Hey,” Alana says and smoothes down her sleep tousled hair.

“Hello,” she replies and leans against the counter. “Coffee?”

Alana shakes her head and approaches her. On an impulse, she kisses the corner of her mouth. “Is this weird?” She asks and takes a step back. It shocks her how attached she feels after one night with this woman, how fervently she hopes the answer is no.

“Should it be?” Bedelia lifts an eyebrow: a question for a question.

“Are we in session, doctor?” Alana half-smiles, feels her heart rate increase as Bedelia closes the small distance between them and kisses her, soft and lingering.. A hand tangles in the back of Alana’s head, the other rests lightly on the swell of her hip.

“Hardly,” she whispers against Alana’s lips and loosens the sash at her waist.”Did I mention I made breakfast?”

“Oh?” Alana guides her backward and pins her body between the island and her own, hands slipping beneath her blouse. She feels Bedelia shiver with the touch and reaches higher, finds lace and silk.

Bedelia hums. “Poached eggs and feta.” Her mouth travels along Alana’s jaw. “Spinach and toast.” She kisses the sensitive skin behind Alana’s ear. “There might even be fresh fruit.”

“Tempting,” Alana says and helps Bedelia out of her shirt. “But I think it can wait.”


End file.
